


Hannibal: Forcing Our Darkest Souls to Unfold

by IBegToDreamAndDiffer



Series: Hannibal: Forcing Our Darkest Souls to Unfold [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, First Times, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating subject to change, dark!Will, incarcerated!Hannibal, incarcerated!Will, one-shots and drabbles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-04-25 20:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4975375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IBegToDreamAndDiffer/pseuds/IBegToDreamAndDiffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles and one-shots set in the “Pushing Us Into Self-Destruction” 'verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Summary:** Will and Hannibal discuss their wedding.

'Barney,' Will drawled as the orderly cleaned up outside his and Hannibal's cells. A psychiatrist had come to see them, had even booked an appointment before making the trip. He'd wanted to talk to Hannibal and had ignored Will completely. Hannibal hadn't liked that. Will had to give the psychiatrist points; he lasted all of ten minutes before vomiting and fleeing from Hannibal.

'Yes, Mr Graham?' Barney asked in that slow, even drawl of his. He was a nice man, Will and Hannibal agreed on that. He never antagonised Will or Hannibal, he never treated them as less than human just because they were labelled psychopaths. He didn't forget, which was what Will liked about him the most; there was always a hint of fear shining in his dark eyes.

'Has Hannibal stopped pouting?' Will asked.

'I am not pouting, Will,' Hannibal growled from his cell. 'Please stop telling Barney and the other orderlies that I am.'

Will smirked. 'Do the other orderlies know that Hannibal's pouting, Barney?'

Barney hesitated, mop poised over the tiles. It wasn't his job, this general clean up; he dealt with Hannibal and Will directly; they were the only prisoners he dealt with. He helped clean their cells, transport them, give them meals and presents when they were good.

But it was late, Barney had said. He was covering for Gordon, a new orderly who wasn't dealing with Hannibal and Will as well as the other nurses. Gordon was weak, Will thought. Hannibal wanted to eat his liver. Gordon didn't drink.

'No, Mr Graham,' Barney finally said, 'Michael and August are downstairs, and Devon is watching the lower floors.'

'Who else, Barney?' Hannibal asked.

'Alexander, James, Nathan and Colin, Dr Lecter,' Barney said.

'Colin,' Hannibal mused. 'Colin, Colin, Colin...'

'Curly black hair,' Will reminded him. 'Short, olive skin, dark eyes.'

'Ah, the one who twitches when you smile at him,' Hannibal said.

Will chuckled and rolled onto his front. He let one arm drop over the side of the bunk. It was low to the floor, so Will was able to brush his fingertips across the smooth concrete floor. He propped his chin on his other forearm. Hannibal was roaming his cell, having no purpose or direction. Just watching Will, watching Barney, glancing at the sketches he'd taped to his walls, at the lures Will had crafted just for him.

There was one by the floor of Hannibal's bed; he always kept it close. Soft plastic bent into the shape of a lure, the tail made of soft green, blue and purple feathers. It reminded Will of one of Hannibal's old suits; paisley and plaid somehow working on the foreign doctor's tall form.

'What are you doing, Hannibal?' Will asked. His husband paused. 'Besides pouting, of course.'

Hannibal's eyes darkened, narrowed, as they found Will's across the abyss of their cells and the hallway. 'Sometimes I find myself imagining cutting out your tongue,' Hannibal said.

Will grinned sharply. 'But then I couldn't shout your name when you fuck me.'

Barney almost dropped the mop- tripped over the bucket, just a bit. He composed himself quickly, used to Will and Hannibal after taking care of them for over four years. They didn't usually air their sex life, but sometimes Will couldn't help himself.

Sometimes, Hannibal punished him for it when they were in that little room again. Will smiled at the thought.

'You are having naughty thoughts, William,' Hannibal said.

'Are you going to punish me?' Will giggled.

Hannibal's smirk turned into a soft smile. 'At first,' he revealed, 'but after?' He just shook his head and looked away. Will had to bury his face in his pillow, cheeks feeling far too warm. Even after everything Hannibal had put him through- everything Will himself had done afterwards- the older man still had the ability to make Will flush and feel young, carefree... loved. Hannibal's love was all-consuming, had tried to consume Will before Will pushed back. Now they lived side-by-side, feeding off of each other, balancing each other yet goading one another along.

Will wasn't sure how it worked. It shouldn't. They were damaged, broken, deranged and so very, very bloody. They reeked of it, it clung to their skin, had stained their souls.

But Will wouldn't give it up for the world. He would tear the world down just to protect it.

'Mr Graham?' Barney questioned.

'Yes, Barney?' Will said, words muffled somewhat by the cheap fabric covering his pillow.

'If you don't mind me asking,' Barney said, 'where did you and Dr Lecter get married?'

Will heard Hannibal go silent in his cell, still; no more footsteps, no more rustle of clothing as Hannibal straightened a picture or picked up a book. He didn't say anything, though, so Will spoke;

'I honestly can't remember what state we were in. Two before we were caught.'

Hannibal hummed; he didn't remember, either.

'It wasn't important, where we were,' Will continued. He and Hannibal had never spoken of this; not to the agents who had hauled them in, not to Jack or Zeller or Price. Not to anyone who ever asked. Their marriage licence had been signed, dated, and filed away. It was legal, binding. Jack must know by now, exactly where Will and Hannibal had tied the knot. Will didn't care enough to ask.

At the time, he had just cared that Molly had already divorced him.

'It wasn't about where we were,' Will said.

'What was important,' Hannibal chimed in, 'was that we were finally together.'

Will smiled. After so many years of trying to break Will, of manipulating Will, Hannibal had finally caught him. Or Will had jumped him, rather. The memories were hazy with pain and drugs and the adrenalin of death. Will had never felt more alive. The only thing that came close was sex with Hannibal.

_Tomorrow night,_ he thought,  _I get to hold him tomorrow night._

'I couldn't get Will into a suit,' Hannibal sighed, sounding put out, even four years and however many months later.

Will smirked. 'I don't like suits. You know that.'

'Unfortunately for me, I adore you regardless,' Hannibal murmured.

'What did you wear, Mr Graham?' Barney asked.

Oh, right; Barney was still there.

'Black trousers,' Will answered. 'A white shirt. You could see my bandages through it.'

'Bandages?' Barney asked. He sounded confused.

'Our wounds from Francis had healed,' Hannibal revealed, 'however, Will was too reckless with another pig.'

'I was having fun!' Will argued. His head snapped up and he glared at his spouse.

Hannibal tilted his head. 'Your idea of fun is reckless, William.'

'Says the serial killer who stages and eats his victims,' Will retorted.

' _Former_ serial killer who staged and ate his victims,' Hannibal corrected him. 'I haven't killed anyone in four years.'

'Not for lack of trying,' Will said. 'Remember Lounds? Those doctors and journalists who tried to interview us?'

'What about them?' Hannibal asked.

'You told one to hang himself and another to eat his own toes.'

'I merely offered the latter a fantastic spice soup recipe that I was sure he would enjoy,' Hannibal said. His back had gone stiff, fingers linked behind his back.

'A recipe that included toes and fingers and other little bits of people,' Will said. 'He didn't like that part.'

Hannibal shrugged one broad shoulder. 'Everybody has their dislikes.'

Will laughed into his pillow again. Poor Barney was standing still in the hall, mop leaking water onto the tiles. He kept staring between the two, head snapping back and forth. It was a problem everyone who wanted time with one or the other faced; who to talk to, who to turn their back to. Was it safe to only address Lecter, or would he consider someone ignoring his husband rude and torture them from behind the glass?

Will liked watching them freak out.

'I wore a white shirt, black trousers, shiny shoes,' Will said, deciding to get back to their original topic. He was sure that Barney was hungry, wanted to sit and eat, relax just a bit. The man had been at the BSH since six am. Will knew because Barney had delivered his and Hannibal's oatmeal for breakfast.

Barney coughed; cleared his throat. 'And you, Dr Lecter?'

'A simple black suit with a white shirt,' Hannibal said.

'With a paisley tie,' Will added. 'You can take the man out of the paisley...'

'That doesn't make sense, Will,' Hannibal chided.

'English is your seventh language, Hannibal,' Will retorted.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. 'Eighth,' he corrected.

Will blinked at that. Huh.

'My dear, sweet Will,' Hannibal cooed. He approached the glass, walked towards what Will considered “their corners”. It was the spot in their cells furthest away from the stairs, at the very end of the hall, the two pressing themselves between the glass and wall. Will see-sawed between wanting to stand, wanting to get closer, and wanting to stay put because he couldn't be bothered getting up.

He remained lying down.

'You don't know how many languages I speak?' Hannibal asked, sounding thoroughly upset.

Will rolled his eyes. 'I didn't know if English or German was your eighth language. I know them now; I won't forget.'

Hannibal raised his eyebrows again, waiting.

'Lithuanian, Latvian, Russian, French, Japanese,' Will rattled off. 'Italian, German and English.'

Hannibal smiled. 'Good boy,' he praised. Will felt his face flush again. Hannibal smiled at him before cocking his head in Barney's direction. 'We were married at sunset in a little court. The woman was rather annoyed at having to issue a licence to two men.'

Will grinned. 'Hannibal wanted to kill her. But I wanted to have fun on our honeymoon, and not the blood and guts kind of fun.'

Hannibal sighed wistfully. 'I would have strung her to the ceiling with fishing line; hooks in her wrists, ankles, and shoulders. She would have bled onto the wooden floor, soaked it with her life. She would have lived, of course; I like them to understand that they're being punished and elevated just before they die.'

Will lifted his head again. He couldn't remember Hannibal describing what he'd wanted to do to her; at the time, Hannibal had merely grumbled and muttered threats under his breath before whisking Will into the room they were married in.

'Then what?' Will asked, voice soft. Barney had gone completely still, eyes locked on Hannibal.

'I would have cut her,' Hannibal said. 'Gently; shallowly. The bigger cuts would be for you, my love. I would have let you finish her however you wanted, for her disgust was mostly directed at you. She saw me as a confused, rich foreigner looking for a trophy husband.'

Will snorted. 'I would make a terrible trophy husband.'

'I like to imagine dressing you up,' Hannibal said, looking far too amused. 'I would have taken you to the opera; dressed in a slim black suit, curls tamed for the night. A flute of champagne in your hand, a prop rather than a refreshing drink. You would stand in the corner and only creep into the light when I held out my hand.'

'Because I always come when you call,' Will sighed. The picture Hannibal had painted didn't sound too horrible. The fawning would be unbelievably uncomfortable; the people boring, money-grubbing; house-wives and men bored with their careers who flocked to the opera for the social gathering rather than the music. Their annoying, sticky thoughts and feelings would crawl over Will, batter him like tiny, annoying flies that didn't leave no matter how many times you swatted them.

Will would have tolerated it for Hannibal; to see, to _feel_ , the music flow through Hannibal and make him sing. To see the raw emotion that so few things could bring out in Hannibal Lecter. His husband would be... overwhelming, in a theatre. And Will's empathy, his understanding of Hannibal, would allow him to feel all of that as if it was his own.

Will sighed again and dropped his chin onto his forearm. 'A cool night,' he murmured, 'darkening lights, powerful music. Not even the crowds would stop me from enjoying you for the night, Hannibal.'

There was silence for a few minutes; Hannibal and Will enjoying their shared imaginings, Barney glancing between the two.

Finally, Hannibal broke it; 'Barney?'

'Yes, Dr Lecter?' the orderly asked, snapping to attention almost immediately.

'Do you think you could speak to Dr Chen for me?' Hannibal asked.

'About what?' Barney prompted. Will smiled; always ask _why_ , never just agree. You shouldn't agree to what Hannibal asked without knowing as many details as possible. And even then he'd win and screw you over in the process.

'I'm sure that some of my things are still being kept in storage,' Hannibal said. 'Some furniture, some books, some CDs.'

Barney blinked.

'I want the brown wooden box that was once kept in my study,' Hannibal said. 'And I will need a CD player. Ask Dr Chen for me. I will even agree to a test or two if he wishes.'

Barney was silent for a few seconds before he nodded. 'I'll ask when I come in tomorrow for the night shift, Dr Lecter.'

'Thank you, Barney,' Hannibal said. 'If you get my things for me, I'll sign something that you can sell. I understand that signatures from my cell are worth more than signatures from before.'

Barney flushed slightly and Will hid his grin in his pillow. Hannibal had enough money to keep his house, his belongings, indefinitely; he hadn't sold everything when he'd gone on the run and later been incarcerated. But his house had been broken into a number of times, items Hannibal had owned or killed with appearing on the internet. The FBI hadn't found everything before the looters swooped in.

Will was pretty sure that his own house had been robbed before Molly had managed to move out.

'Thank you, Dr Lecter,' Barney finally said. He went back to mopping, then, and in twenty minutes he was done and on his way; clattering down the stairs with his bucket and mop, feet beginning to drag as exhaustion set in. Barney never relaxed around Will and Hannibal. He could, now.

More silence, Will and Hannibal staring at each other, enjoying each other despite being locked in separate cages. Then the lights went out; they usually did at ten pm, but Barney had left them on so that the psychiatrist could meet with Hannibal. It was midnight at least- past that, perhaps. Will couldn't be bothered turning to check his clock.

'You should sleep, Will,' Hannibal said, voice drifting to him in the darkness. 'I will be keeping you up tomorrow night.'

'I can nap tomorrow,' Will mused.

'Sleep, Will,' Hannibal said. It was an order this time, and Will found his limbs obeying. He rolled over and kicked his shoes off, remained atop the covers. The institute was never too cold, never too warm; the perfect temperature to keep the crazy people happy.

Will heard Hannibal moving about in his own cell. The slide of material as Hannibal slipped his shoes off and climbed into bed, the thin covers drawn up to his chest. Will briefly considered taking his jumpsuit off- he usually slept in his boxers and white t-shirt. But he couldn't be bothered. His eyes were already shut, one hand touching the floor, the other curled over his belly.

'G'night, Hann,' Will murmured.

'Goodnight, Will,' Hannibal replied.

Will sank into his head. The stream didn't rush to meet him like it usually did; this time it was one of the nameless hotels he and Hannibal had stayed in. Hannibal was wearing a pressed white shirt and black trousers, shoes tucked neatly by the bed. Will was sprawled across it, aching in his briefs, chest flushed and bandage stark white against his stomach.

Hannibal smiled sharply as he crawled into the bed, and Will grinned.

He didn't have nightmares any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:** I just suddenly wrote this, and it doesn't fit into “Pushing Us Into Self-Destruction”, though it's in the same 'verse. So I figured I'd post it as a one-shot. I see it happening before Clarice Starling enters their lives.
> 
> I have plans to add more drabbles and one-shots set in this 'verse, and figured it'd be easier to post them all together in one story. So if anyone wants something written in particular, just let me know. I'll see what I can do.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Dreamer


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Summary:** Their first kiss.

Will watched Hannibal go into the small, wardrobe-sized bathroom. He didn't know where they were, exactly. Only that they were far away from Baltimore. Will never wanted to return, though he missed his dogs. It ached like the very real wounds he still sported, both from the Red Dragon and the fall from the cliff. He probably should have felt bad about not missing the people that had once been in his life. He just... _didn't._

Will had gone into that fall with only one thought; _the end_. Whether he lived or died- whether Hannibal lived or died- had no longer been Will's decision. He'd no longer had to actively think about it. It was in Fate's hands; God's, if He was real.

They were alive. Damaged, physically damaged, but alive. Everything else had ended; Will's old life, his old morals, the old Will Graham. Now he was... the new Will Graham. The Will Graham that Hannibal had always wanted.

He didn't miss the old Will Graham all that much. He had been damaged emotionally, a stuttering, falling apart mess. Someone who had let Jack Crawford walk all over him.

This Will Graham was what Hannibal had always wanted; someone who appreciated his art, who could see the beauty in what he did to the pigs that surrounded them both. This Will Graham would stand by Hannibal Lecter's side, smile, and take the offered scalpel.

This Will Graham wasn't held back by what society thought was right. He did what  _he_ thought was right.

Will rolled his head to work out the crick in his neck. He'd slept on the trip from their last hotel room to this one. He was pretty sure that Hannibal had robbed a pharmacy along the way, because the table opposite the double bed was covered in bottles of pills and various packets of... things. Will remembered tearing the stitches in his face at some point in the last twenty-four hours, and Hannibal had murmured something about fixing it.

The man in question left the bathroom then, and Will watched him silently. Hannibal was moving slowly, favouring his right leg. Will tilted his head.

'Are you in pain?' Hannibal asked, his back to Will.

'I always am,' Will responded.

Hannibal's lips quirked upward when he glanced over his shoulder. 'I meant physical pain,' he corrected.

'I always am,' Will repeated.

Hannibal chuckled softly; it wasn't a laugh, really. A small, slightly amused puff of air. Hannibal had always been subdued in all of his actions. Even when he was trying to convince Will to come with him, to side with him, to... let the darkness take over. Will wondered what it would take for Hannibal to truly lose control. Did he express himself freely, without restraint, when he killed? When he set up the scene, was there fire in his eyes and a grin on his face?

He had let go during the Red Dragon, Will was sure of it. To an extent, at least. The look in his eyes, the way he moved... Will wanted to shiver just thinking about it.

_Maybe he lets go during sex_ , Will mused, only to dismiss the thought a second later. No, that would risk exposure. Hannibal had had to constantly watch every word, every movement, so as not to reveal the predator he was. He would have been extra careful around Alana.

And Will.

Hannibal pulled a chair from across the room and sat before Will. He laid his supplies out and made Will take a handful of pills. Will swallowed them without thought. Hannibal wouldn't kill him now. The man had everything he'd ever desired.

Hannibal pulled out some of the stitches he'd put in Will a few days ago; a few tugs, discarded thread. Will winced only once when Hannibal started re-stitching the gash in his cheek.

'What is on your mind, William?' Hannibal asked when he was done.

'Don't call me William.'

Hannibal smiled and Will caught his eyes, held them.

_Amusement over the fact that he had annoyed Will; joy that Will was looking at him and still looking. An all encompassing_ love _for the man sitting opposite him._

Will gulped and looked away. He turned his head, tried to act like the avoidance was due to his wound. Hannibal sighed, clearly not buying it.

'Please try to keep your mouth movements to a minimum,' Hannibal said.

'I always try to follow that advice,' Will murmured. It hurt to talk; the gash was deep, had cut into gum near the roof of his mouth. But Will had had worse injuries, and he was alive. He couldn't complain, really.

Hannibal smiled but it was fake this time; a sliver of the person suit Hannibal had once cloaked himself in.

It was Will's turn to sigh, and he caught Hannibal's wrist when the older man tried to stand. Hannibal paused. 'Please don't pretend,' Will said. 'Not with me.'

It took a moment for Hannibal to respond; 'We are equals, Will,' he said. 'Do not pretend with me, and I won't pretend with you.'

Will licked his lips. 'I'm not pretending.'

'You are deflecting,' Hannibal shot back. Will squeezed his wrist. 'I adore everything about you, Will Graham,' Hannibal said, and Will's grip tightened further. 'That includes the broken parts of you.'

'I thought you preferred me broken.'

'Only so that I can fix you,' Hannibal replied. He twisted his wrist from beneath Will's limp fingers, and then linked their hands together. He squeezed, this time. 'I want you to be happy.'

'I am,' Will admitted. He glanced up, and of course Hannibal was looking at him. 'I'm hurt,' Will said, 'and I feel... out of sorts. I still feel broken. But I'm where I want to be, Hannibal. We survived the fall.'

'Yes, we did,' Hannibal agreed. He squeezed Will's fingers before letting his hand slide free, and Will watched him pack up his supplies. He threw out the soiled thread, the cotton balls covered in Will's blood, the old bandage. He packed everything else away in a small black case, which then went within the big suitcase Hannibal had retrieved from a storage locker. Everything the two now owned- or, rather, what  _Hannibal_ now owned- was in the car Will had stolen two days ago. While Hannibal was by now an expert at evading federal custody, Will wanted to prove that he could contribute to their new life together. He wasn't going to rely on Hannibal for  _everything_ .

'I am going to shower,' Hannibal announced. He started unbuttoning his shirt right there. Will's eyes dropped to each piece of flesh revealed. Hannibal's chest hair was mostly grey. 'When I am done I will cover your wounds and you can bathe. You need to remain clean to avoid infection.'

'Okay,' Will croaked. He cleared his throat and looked away, but caught the small grin Hannibal hadn't been able to contain. When the bathroom door was mostly shut- because there was a sliver of light, and all Will had to do was stand and cross the room to stare at a naked Hannibal- Will laid back on the bed and folded his hands over his stomach.

There was something that he had wanted to do for a while now. Even before that talk with Bedelia, when she had revealed what Will had suspected. Will's lips tingled at the thought, and he reached up to touch them. He imagined what Hannibal's would feel like. Thin and dry? Soft and wet? Did Hannibal kiss like a man starved, or did he restrain himself, even then?  _Would_ he restrain himself with Will? Would it be because of Will's injuries, or because Hannibal was incapable of truly letting himself go?

Will wasn't even sure if Hannibal would  _want_ to kiss him. Their relationship had always been intense, from their very beginning in Jack Crawford's office. It was unlike anything Will had ever experienced, and he couldn't accurately explain or define it.

But Will had always considered himself straight, and had never asked after Hannibal's preferences. Apparently everybody had known how Hannibal truly felt about Will except Will. That didn't make the man... bisexual. That would be the correct term.

Wouldn't it?

Will let out a breath and rolled over, winced when his bandaged cheek touched the pillow. He remained where he was, though, ignoring the dull throb in his face.

Will had _always_ considered himself straight. But with his empathy disorder, he'd sometimes felt attracted to other men. He had always been sure that it had been his disorder. Some of the heads he fell into- some of the people he saw in his life- they were attracted to men. Will himself had only found women appealing in a sexual manner.

Until Hannibal.

Will wasn't sure if he'd always been attracted to men on some level. Or if it was just Hannibal himself. Will had definitely fallen in love with Hannibal along the way. The fact that Hannibal was a man didn't seem important. Will wanted Hannibal, dark past and blood-thirsty monsters included. He wanted to kiss Hannibal, touch him, worship the body Hannibal had.

_Why am I even thinking about this?_ Will mused as he rubbed his injured cheek against the pillow. It hurt.  _Kiss him,_ Will told himself.  _If he doesn't want me, I'll know it._

It would be just like Hannibal to act like he sexually desired Will to keep Will happy. The man was a monster, but one with manners. And he would give Will....  _everything_ .

'Willl?  _Will_ .'

Will blinked and found Hannibal crouched beside the bed. The man was dressed in blue striped pyjama bottoms. Nothing else. His hair was wet.

Will gulped.

'Are you alright?' Hannibal asked. His voice was soft, gentle. Will nodded slowly. 'You shouldn't be lying on your cheek, Will.' Hannibal tsked and pushed Will onto his back. Will let him. 'Let me put a shirt on and I'll cover your wounds.'

'Hannibal.'

He stopped and turned back around. Will sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed until he could stand. He swayed a bit and Hannibal steadied him with a strong hand. Either the drugs were kicking in, or Will was still exhausted. The latter made little sense, seeing as how he'd slept almost all day.

'Hannibal,' Will repeated. The man in questioned tilted his head and didn't say a word. 'There's something I've wanted to... do for a while now,' Will said slowly. Partly because his cheek hurt, partly because his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest.  _If that happened, would Hannibal eat it?_ he mused.

'Yes?' Hannibal prompted when Will was silent for too long.

'I...' Will shook his head and reached out. He settled both hands on Hannibal's forearms, felt the strong muscles beneath warm, olive skin. He dragged his hands up, palms warning on Hannibal's naked skin. He felt coarse hair beneath his fingers when he ran them over Hannibal's chest. Then up his neck, finger tips brushing cheekbones that could cut diamonds. 'Hannibal,' he murmured.

Hannibal raised his prominent brow.

Will ducked forward to kiss him. Hannibal was barely half an inch taller than him, so all he had to do was press forward; lips again lips, Will's chapped and Hannibal's...  _oh_ . Thin, soft, not moving against Will's own.

Will's eyes had fallen shut and he squeezed them together tightly before slowly drawing back. 'Um...' he licked his lips. Hannibal tasted like mint toothpaste. 'I'm sorry,' he murmured. 'I, uh... probably shouldn't have done that.'

He let his eyes open slowly, didn't want to see the affection mixed with guilt on Hannibal's face. Because now Will was Hannibal's, and Will knew that Hannibal wanted to take care of him. He could read it in every word that fell from Hannibal's mouth, in every line of Hannibal's body.

'I'm sorry,' Will said again.

'Oh, Will,' Hannibal breathed. Will let his hands drop to Hannibal's shoulders. 'Is this what you desire?' Hannibal asked.

Will nodded.

'A sexual relationship?' Hannibal pressed.

Will nodded again.

'Oh, William.' Will opened his mouth, wanted to tell Hannibal to shut it with the whole  _William_ thing, because Hannibal only ever did it to annoy the  _fuck out of him_ .

Will got his mouth open, stormy blue eyes met warm maroon ones-

The hunger in Hannibal's eyes was so very intense, more so than Will had ever seen before. He didn't get to study it, because Hannibal  _crashed_ into him. His hands gripped Will's cheeks and pulled him forward, and Hannibal's lips caught Will's own. Will winced at the pain in his cheek but nothing,  _nothing_ , would stop him from throwing himself completely into Hannibal Lecter.

This kiss wasn't about passion, or love, or anything so...  _normal_ . It felt like possession, a claim of ownership, an admittance of  _obsession_ . It was everything that Will had ever wanted yet denied himself when it came to this man. He wrapped his arms around Hannibal's neck and tugged him closer. He heard and felt Hannibal groan, felt a nip to his swelling bottom lip. Then Hannibal was back, kissing him like nothing else mattered.

In that moment, Will was pretty sure that nothing did.

Hannibal's lips were warm, wet with saliva,  _everywhere_ . His tongue lapped at Will's before dominating his mouth, and Will groaned; he tilted his head to get Hannibal deeper, to suck on his tongue when the man stopped inspecting his gums. Will pressed himself tightly against Hannibal's front; he clung to Hannibal desperately with both arms, but Hannibal clearly wasn't going anywhere. They only broke away for oxygen, and even then Hannibal panted against Will's smooth cheek. He pressed kisses to Will's neck, nipped and  _bit_ , sucked what Will was sure would be a large, impressive mark to the left of his Adam's apple.

'Hannibal,' Will gasped.

' _Mylimasis_ ,' was Hannibal's growled response. It was Lithuanian, Will was sure; he'd heard Hannibal mutter a couple of sentences in his native tongue when Will was being particularly obtuse.

'Please,' Will whimpered, 'please, Hannibal, I need-'

'What?' Hannibal cut in. He looked up, and his eyes were dark. 'What do you need, Will?' Hannibal asked. 'I will give you...  _everything_ .'

'I need you,' Will said. 'Just you.' He tugged Hannibal forward and kissed him again; hard lips, harsh breathing, rutting when Hannibal wrapped an arm around Will's waist and  _rolled_ his hips. Will was new when it came to sex with other men, but God, the things he wanted to  _do_ to Hannibal Lecter.

And then, because Hannibal was an  _asshole_ , he pulled away.

'What the fuck,' Will muttered.

'Language, Will,' Hannibal tutted.

Will glared at him and Hannibal's smile softened. It was only then that Will realised what he was seeing; unrestrained joy. Love in Hannibal Lecter's eyes. Passion, obsession,  _reverence_ .

Hannibal Lecter, letting control slip.

Will was so amazed, so  _gobsmacked_ that this beautiful, perfectly controlled man would expose himself to him, that he almost missed what Hannibal said-

'… no need to rush, and we are both injured.' Hannibal stroked Will's good cheek, fingers ghosting down his neck. Will shivered and bit his bottom lip, saw the flash of  _hunger_ in Hannibal's eyes. 'We must recover,' Hannibal said.

'I wasn't suggesting that we fuck right now,' Will muttered. His cheek was more of a stabbing pain now than a throbbing one. But at least it wasn't agonising.

Hannibal raised his eyebrows and pushed his crotch against Will's. Will moaned. 'But you want it,' Hannibal said.

'Uh.... m-maybe.'

Hannibal smirked. 'I want you in every way, Will Graham. And I will  _have you_ . But not yet.'

'O-Okay.' Hannibal was still pressed against him, and Will was finding it hard to concentrate. At least Hannibal was good at hiding his emotions. While Will could still read him, it was more like calm waves lapping over his feet than an ocean crashing over him.

He wouldn't fall into Hannibal Lecter unless Hannibal allowed him to. Will liked that.

Hannibal kissed him again; soft, sweet, a promise of what would come. Eventually.

'You need to bathe, Will,' Hannibal murmured. Warm, minty breath washed over Will's face. Will wanted to suck on Hannibal's tongue again.

'Okay,' Will repeated.

Smiling, Hannibal helped Will out of his clothes. Will would admit that he put on a bit of a show, though it was difficult with the bruises and cuts he was sporting. It seemed to work, as Hannibal's eyes were glued to his ass as Will entered the tiny shower.

Afterwards they got into bed together. And unlike every other night, Will didn't keep his distance; he plastered himself against Hannibal's side and Hannibal let him. Will wasn't a cuddler by any definition; he liked his space, mostly because of his night terrors, insomnia, and endless sweating. He was sure that Hannibal appreciated his personal space, too.

Tonight Will pressed his head under Hannibal's chin, closed his eyes, and passed out. He didn't dream. And when he woke up, Hannibal was curled around his back, face buried in Will's hair.

It was definitely something that Will could get used to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:** I've been working SO much that when I get days off I just kinda read and sit and stare at the wall. But now I'm finally writing again, huzzah! So I was imagining Will and Hannibal's first kiss and this was what I came up with. Hopefully you enjoyed it.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Dreamer


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Summary:** Hannibal doesn't like it when people speak ill of his husband.
> 
> **Warnings:** Canon-typical violence, gore, cannibalism

'You'll have one hour with your agent, Doctor Lecter.' Dr Chen ticked something on his clipboard and then folded his arms across it, wood and papers held to his chest.

'Thank you, Doctor Chen.' Hannibal gave his trademark smile; the one he'd stitched together to greet patients and prey alike. Dr Chen shifted from foot-to-foot, obviously uncomfortable. But he pulled himself together, like he always did. Hannibal respected his strength.

'Remember that this meeting takes up all the hours you've been allocated for this month,' Dr Chen added. 'We can talk about next month's schedule on the fourth.'

Hannibal hummed before asking; 'What about Will? How many hours has he used?'

Dr Chen didn't have to look at his notes; 'None.'

'And as his husband, would I be allowed to use some of his hours?'

Dr Chen sighed. 'As I've told you before, Doctor Lecter; you can only use your husband's hours if it's for a meeting with your lawyers, or if it concerns both of you.'

'The book concerns the two of us,' Hannibal said. 'I'm adding some rather lengthy chapters about my relationship with Will.'

'I see.' Dr Chen consulted his clipboard again. 'Talk to your husband, Doctor Lecter, and I'll return this afternoon at two o'clock. We'll discuss it and see what we can come up with.'

'Thank you, Dr Chen.' Hannibal tilted his head at the other doctor, who nodded in response and left quickly.

Hannibal watched the man go before turning his attention to Will's cell. 'Will?' Will didn't respond at first; Hannibal could see Will curled into a ball on his cot, the man about to fall off with the way he was squished onto it. 'Will!'

Will choked on his own tongue- or perhaps spit- and then sat up quickly. His curls were a wild mess, growing out, long enough for Hannibal to hold and bend Will to do what he wished. Hannibal licked his lips and watched a smirk slowly curl at Will's lips.

'What're you thinkin'?' Will mumbled, then yawned.

'Nothing in particular,' Hannibal said.

'I am,' Will said. He yawned once more before swinging his feet onto the floor. 'What's up?'

'I have a meeting with my agent in three hours,' Hannibal said. 'After which my hours for the month are used.'

'Mm,' Will hummed, 'and you wanna use mine?'

'Apparently I can use them if the source I'm meeting with concerns the two of us,' Hannibal said.

'And your book concerns the two of us?'

'I'm writing a few chapters about you,' Hannibal said. 'Are you going to add anything?'

'Maybe.' Will shrugged a shoulder, then rolled both, his back cracking lightly when he stretched. 'What would I have to write?'

'Your thoughts and feelings during our first few encounters,' Hannibal said. 'Perhaps something about how you felt when we ran away together.'

Will laughed. 'I always love it when you phrase it like that.'

Hannibal smiled.

'Fine, fine; I'll write for your damn book.'

' _Our_ book,' Hannibal said. ' _The Human Suit_ by Hannibal Lecter with William Graham.'

'Does it have to be  _William_ Graham?' Will demanded. 'And I still think that the title is horrible.'

'I've made a note of it, and am continuing to ignore it,' Hannibal said. 'Dr Chen will be speaking with us at two o'clock.'

'Okay,' Will said and flopped back onto his cot. 'Wake me when he gets here.'

 

{oOo}

 

Will was woken, not by Dr Chen, but by Nurse Kendall. Apparently he and Hannibal were due their physicals the following day, and Nurse Kendall had come along today to... do something. Will wasn't paying attention.

Until Nurse Kendall said, 'You obviously have severe psychological issues.'

'Obviously,' Will drawled. He propped himself up on his two pillows and linked his fingers over his stomach. The nurse was standing on the other side of the glass; he only ever gave Hannibal and Will- and the other inmates- physicals when they were chained up and dragged down to medical.

Well, he _helped_ give physicals. Because as Hannibal had pointed out when Nurse Kendall had ticked him off, he wasn't a _doctor_ , just a _nurse_.

'You're a nurse, Nurse Kendall,' Will mused. 'Not a psychiatrist.'

Kendall snorted. 'Your last therapist manipulated you into killing people, Graham. I'm probably better qualified than him.' In the background, Hannibal's pencil streaked across the sketch he was making. 'I'm not a psychopath, for one,' Kendall muttered.

'Again; nurse, not psychiatrist,' Will said. 'You're applying a label to Hannibal that many  _qualified_ and  _skilled_ psychologists have tried to label him with. It hasn't stuck, so far.'

'Are you denying that your boyfriend's a psychopath?' Kendall asked- no, demanded. He looked really pissed off over the fact that Will wouldn't agree with him. Will pondered jumping into the man's head, but decided that he didn't want to get his hands sticky. Kendall looked like he had a sticky mind.

'Husband,' Will corrected.

Kendall snorted again. Will felt his eye twitch.

'Fine,' Kendall drawled, ' _husband_ . You're denying that your  _husband's_ a psychopath?'

Will didn't like Kendall. He didn't like people in general, but he really wanted to rip Kendall's throat out with his teeth. Or maybe he'd just take a chunk out of the man's cheek. That way Kendall could still talk, but he'd stutter around Will, apologise for the way he spoke about Will's partner.

Kendall was one of those guys who thought he was better than everyone. He reminded Will of Brian Zeller, only without the charm Zeller was capable of showing. And without the friends. And Zeller was actually pretty good at his job, whereas Kendall had been “asked politely” to leave his former job at some hospital somewhere; Hannibal knew where, Will didn't care. He was working at the BSH because he had no other options within Maryland, and Kendall clearly thought  _very little_ of the crazy people he had to keep healthy.

Will didn't consider himself crazy. He just thought differently to the sheep of humanity.

Will blinked back to himself and realised that Kendall was glaring at him. 'I'm sorry, were we discussing something?'

'I've noticed that you've picked up a lot of your husband's mannerisms,' Kendall said.

At least he was saying “husband”. 'Have I?'

Kendall nodded and flipped through Will's medical file. The papers from Will's many therapy sessions- and with his many therapists- were supposed to be private. But at the BHS, the head doctor and nurse generally looked into whatever the hell they wanted. Dr Chen didn't seem to mind, as it meant that the doctors and nurses knew exactly what to expect from their patients.

Will didn't particularly care either. Hannibal would probably bring it up at some point, if only to annoy Kendall and Dr Porter and get their access restricted.

'Graham!'

Will smiled. 'Call me Will.'

'Yeah, no.' Will scowled at the older man, who completely ignored him. He was reading Will's file again. 'Your speech patterns have changed. Your body language. You've basically became a younger, scruffier Hannibal Lecter.'

'When you fall in love with someone like Hannibal Lecter,' Will said, and he could see Hannibal staring at him over Kendall's shoulder, 'you lose a part of yourself. I definitely lost a part of myself; the part that cares about people like you. The part that cares about where my darker urges wish to take me. I gained so much more, though. I became happy, and I learned to love myself.' Will narrowed his eyes at Kendall. 'You don't have to understand it,  _Nurse Kendall_ , you just have to accept it. Stop fishing for details. Freddie Lounds knows all of this.'

It became apparent then; Kendall's eyes widened ever so slightly, and he almost dropped Will's file. He got himself together quickly, but Will's empathy didn't allow secrets.

'Tsk, tsk, Nurse Kendall.' Will shook his head. 'Getting into bed with Freddie Lounds? She'll protect you; she's good at protecting her sources. But other than that she'll fuck you over.' He climbed off of his cot and approached the plexiglass, enjoyed the way Kendall took a hesitant step back. 'And now you've  _annoyed me._ What's to be done about that?'

Kendall swallowed and took a deep breath. Then a smirk spread across his face; almost real, except for the twitch in the right corner of his upper lip.

'You think you're scary, Graham?' Kendall sneered. 'You've got a cushy cell across from your boyfriend. He's the mass-murderer here. You're just a scared little FBI agent who went off the rails. And look where it got you. Locked up at my mercy. I failed as a doctor, but at least I'm not sitting here rotting.'

He chuckled darkly. 'You're useless, Graham. Nothing but a fuck toy for a psycho. What's to be done about  _that_ ?'

He laughed as he left, footsteps loud as he took the stairs and left their floor. Will pressed himself against the glass and watched Kendall for as long as he could. When the man disappeared, Will turned. Hannibal was already staring at him, standing, hands linked behind his back.

There were monsters in Hannibal's eyes. His gaze was a black hole and it threatened to drag Will in. But Will's own darkness met it, and they merged instead of collapsing within each other. Will nodded and turned away, went back to his cot, laid down.

Across the room, in his cell, Hannibal Lecter grinned sharply.

 

{oOo}

 

Dr Chen had seemed surprised at Will's dark mood and Hannibal's quiet one when he returned at two o'clock. Neither wanted to discuss any more meetings, and Dr Chen spent twenty minutes helplessly staring between the two before giving up and returning to his office. It _wasn't_ surprising that when one man was in a foul mood, the other was too. Too often Dr Chen had witnessed someone annoy one of them, only for the other to pounce with sharp words and cutting grins. Afterwards he was left with the pieces; one brooding, the other prowling his cage like a restless predator.

Will Graham's physical was the following day, and he didn't utter a word to Dr Porter or Nurse Kendall. The latter tried to goad him, grinning stupidly the entire time. Will stared ahead blankly.

When he was returned to his cell, Will glanced to his right. Hannibal was standing where he'd left him, staring at Will and watching as the orderlies removed the handcuffs. Will rubbed one wrist and turned to face his husband.

'Your turn, Lecter,' Kendall drawled.

Hannibal turned and threaded his arms through the hole in his door. Handcuffs were slapped on, then the leather mask. Will was always let out within the BSH in just cuffs; he wasn't considered a biter or a physical danger to others. When they'd first been brought in, Hannibal was wrapped in a straitjacket, even when moved about the BSH. He had never attacked an orderly, had never even spoken out of turn when he wasn't prodded.

That would probably change, after today.

Hannibal turned to glance at Will as he was removed from his cell. They didn't exchange a word, and Kendall sneered at Will as he left.

Will sat on his bunk, put his hands on his knees, and smiled.

 

{oOo}

 

Like so many before him, Ryan Kendall had been lulled into a false sense of security.

It was extremely rare for Hannibal Lecter to actually get physically violent. He always used his sharp tongue to aggravate and terrify people.

But Kendall should have known that he was playing with sharks. He'd annoyed Will; he had implied that Will was nothing but a bit of fun for Hannibal. Will was Hannibal's entire world, and Hannibal could not let this slight go unpunished.

So he smiled as one of the orderlies removed the mask; he had told Kendall that he wanted to discuss Freddie Lounds- without the leather obstructing their conversation, of course.

Kendall agreed.

Hannibal flexed his jaw and licked his lips. 'Thank you, Colin.' It was the small, twitchy orderly that Will seemed fond of. He barely reached Hannibal's shoulders, yet his hands were always steady and strong when he gripped Hannibal's biceps.

'Well?' Kendall demanded. 'You know, I can cut you in; Lounds will pay a fortune if you give up some dirt on your toy.'

Hannibal tilted his head, and he caught the other orderly staring at him; he was waiting for Hannibal to act.

'Husband,' Hannibal corrected.

'Right, right,' Kendall laughed. ' _Husband_.' He sneered the word; spat it like it was filth. Hannibal licked his lips again.

'Dear Miss Lounds knows quite a bit about myself and Will,' Hannibal said. He started walking again, and the orderlies had to move with him. Kendall jogged a few steps to catch up. 'What more could she possibly want?'

'She knows that you're writing a book,' Kendall said. 'She wants to write one, too;  _Inside the Mind of a Psycho_ , or some bullshit.'

'Is this book about me, or about Will?' Hannibal asked. He had been called worse before- as had Will. But Hannibal would not tolerate anyone using that word about Will in his presence.

'Graham,' Kendall muttered. 'He seems to be a bit more interesting than you. Good guy gone bad and all that. But writing about the two of you is where the money's at, apparently.  _Murder husbands_ .'

A moniker that would follow Hannibal and Will until their dying days, Hannibal thought with a sigh. He wasn't completely against the label, though he didn't  _love_ it either.

'If she is writing the book about both of us,' Hannibal said slowly, 'then it would do well to speak to both of us. I can only give my own accounts of what happened between Will and myself. I can only guess at Will's thoughts and emotions.'

Kendall snorted. 'If Graham would actually  _talk_ then yeah, that'd be great.' He turned to grin at Hannibal. 'But he's unhinged; crazier than you, that's for sure. He needs to be put in a padded cell.' He shook his head and turned away. 'What the fuck you see in  _that_ little weirdo is beyond anyone.'

Hannibal went for the face; he had seen it in Will's eyes. Will wanted Kendall to keep his voice. One of the orderlies- Colin- had dropped back, lulled into security by Hannibal and Kendall's easy conversation. The other one was at Hannibal's left, one hand loosely guiding Hannibal's trapped arm.

Hannibal struck fast and deadly. He closed the distance between himself and Kendall in one smooth, practised step. He tilted his head and latched onto the man's face. When he bit down, Kendall started screaming.

The cheeks were one of the softer parts of the human body; Kendall's were plump, easy to grab, and Hannibal had sharp, crooked teeth. He felt blood burst onto his tongue and bit harder, pushed with both his head and right shoulder. Kendall flailed back, tried to get away, and that only helped Hannibal force him into the wall.

The man screamed again when Hannibal moved to get a better bite. There was already so much blood, and when Hannibal  _tore_ at the man's skin, at fleshy tissue, more spurted across the both of them. Hannibal ripped his head away and grinned triumphantly when he stumbled back with a chunk of flesh. He chewed before the orderlies could stop him, swallowed when large, dirty fingers forced their way into his mouth. Kendall was clutching at his face and Hannibal darted forward- he wanted another taste, he wanted Kendall to  _suffer_ for ever using such foul language to describe  _his_ Will Graham.

Colin was in the way, and then Hannibal was on the floor. He laughed over Kendall's screams, and only stopped when a syringe was jabbed into his neck, the plunger pushed down. And even then it took a few seconds; Hannibal very much hoped that his laughter haunted Kendall's nightmares.

 

{oOo}

 

Will stood when he heard footsteps; two men walking heavily, dragging something between them. His eyes widened slightly when Colin and August dragged Hannibal into his cell; Hannibal's face, and the front of his jumpsuit, were covered in blood. He was unconscious, his head lolling from side-to-side.

August and Colin dumped Hannibal onto his cot and hastily left the cell.

'Is he hurt?' Will asked. They ignored him. 'HEY!' Will smacked the glass with both palms, ignored the pain that throbbed through his hands and up his arms. Colin jumped and August turned to look at him. 'Is my husband okay?' Will growled.

'D-Dr Lecter's fine,' Colin stuttered.

He cleared his throat, but it was August who added, 'He attacked Nurse Kendall. We had to sedate him.'

'How long will he be out?' Will asked.

'No more than two hours,' August said. 'Dr Lecter's a big guy.'

Will nodded and sat back down; the orderlies glanced at each other before checking that Hannibal's cell was properly locked and leaving. Will kept his eyes on Hannibal, his inner clock ticking with each passing minute.

 

{oOo}

 

Hannibal had a headache when he woke, and his mouth tasted awful. He would need to shower to get the taste of Ryan Kendall out of his mouth.

'Hannibal.'

Hannibal sat up quickly, stiff muscles protesting. Will was sitting on the floor in the middle of his cell, nose almost touching the glass.

'Are you okay?'

'I...' Hannibal had to clear his throat. He licked his lips and tasted old, dried blood. 'I am well,' he said. 'A headache and sore muscles, but nothing a proper rest and a drink of water won't fix.'

Will nodded, and then his eyes darkened. 'Tell me everything.'

Hannibal did. And he could see the barely restrained excitement, the energy, in Will's shoulders. His eyes were large pools, deep and dark. Hannibal wanted to fall into them.

'I will lose privileges,' Hannibal said, 'and our conjugal visits will most likely be suspended for some time.'

'I asked you to do this,' Will whispered. 'Thank you.'

'You are welcome,  _mylimasis_ ,' Hannibal said.

There was a beat of silence, and then Will grinned sharply. There was a different kind of heat to Will's eyes now, and Hannibal knew that if he looked down Will's jumpsuit would be tented. His own was beginning to feel tight.

'I can wait,' Will said.

Hannibal smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:** I'm definitely going to write another one-shot where someone puts Will or Hannibal into a mood, and that makes the other cross... I also want to have Jack, Price, and Zeller in the story at some point. I like the idea of Jack having to speak to one or both, having to ignore one in favour of the other. And of course if he does that, the other will stare holes into his back. Good times.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Dreamer


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Summary:** Hannibal and Will have an argument.

Barney was the first to hear it. He'd clocked on twenty minutes earlier, ate his breakfast in the staff room, and talked Colin down from having a panic attack; the younger man had to deal with Lecter and Graham later that day due to Barney's appointment with his dentist. Barney had told Colin- had told all of them,  _ countless times _ \- that Lecter and Graham were easy once you learned their quirks. There were just a few simple rules; be polite; don't be  _ rude _ ; don't ignore one for the other (always try to keep both in the conversation, or simply don't  _ ignore both _ ); and, as always, address him as  _ Doctor Lecter _ .

Really, it was very simple.

Barney was brought from his thoughts by a loud  _ crash _ , followed by a shout and a bang. He immediately picked up his steps and hurried up the stairs. The noises were coming from the top floor, from Lecter and Graham's cells. Neither man ever caused that much trouble, apart from occasionally telling people to eat their loved ones. But that didn't mean that they wouldn't start. Barney had certainly never felt completely comfortable with them.

They were animals. Caged, yes, but animals all the same. And a trapped animal was the most dangerous of all.

Barney finally reached the floor and rounded the corner. Why there was a corner obstructing the view was beyond him- it gave Lecter and Graham ample time to stop whatever they were doing. Sure, the entire area was heavily monitored via CCTV and microphones, but still.

Their cells came into view, and Barney didn't stop until there was glass either side of him, until he could turn his head either way to stare at the confined men.

His mouth dropped open when he realised what was happening.

Graham had tossed his mattress and sheets onto the floor, and his entire collection of books and fly fishing equipment had followed. His cell was a mess, and Graham currently seemed extremely determined to rip his table and bunk from the floor. They were bolted down, but he was still trying to kick and tug the table free.

Lecter's cell was still clean, but the man had both fists pressed against the glass. As Barney turned towards him, Lecter bashed his right fist against the glass- another  _ bang  _ rang out, the plexiglass vibrating in its frame.

'Will!' Lecter wasn't shouting, but his voice was louder than usual, tone sterner. Barney had never heard the doctor speak to his spouse like that. 'Enough!'

' _ Enough _ ?!' Graham echoed with a dark laugh. He finally stopped trying to break his table. 'Oh, that's  _ rich _ . “ _ Clearly I know what's best for you, Will. I'm smarter than you _ !” You say  _ that  _ and then expect me to  _ listen  _ to you?'

Lecter growled. 'I didn't say anything of the sort.'

'You practically did!' Graham shouted. He tossed his hands in the air. ' _ I'm Hannibal Lecter and I'm so much fucking  _ better  _ than everyone else _ !'

'You're putting words into my mouth.'

'I'm taking them out!' Graham kicked at his table and winced; Barney doubted that his slip-on shoes offered much protection against the metal. 'I can read everything you aren't saying, Hannibal! You can't hide things from me!'

Barney glanced at Lecter, who's face was a stony mask. How anyone could actually  _ read  _ that was beyond him.

'I hid from you for over a year, Will,' Lecter said. His tone was deceptively pleasant, but Graham clearly heard something that Barney couldn't.

Graham's head snapped up. His eyes narrowed. 'Don't you...  _ dare _ ...' he took a breath, another, his chest heaving, 'don't you...  _ ever  _ bring that up  _ again _ .' He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair. His curls were getting longer and they stuck up crazily, making Graham look as unhinged as Barney knew him to be. 'That's just fucking great, Hannibal.'

'Language-' Lecter tried, but Graham rushed at the glass of his cell, and this time he was the one pounding against it.

'NO!' he screamed.

'Mr Graham,' Barney tried. If he didn't calm them down, security would be sending up a couple of orderlies to subdue them. If it looked like Graham was going to hurt himself, he'd be sedated.

'Don't you fucking  _ dare _ !' Graham snarled. 'All this time and I thought you were... at least a  _ little  _ bit sorry for what you put me through! But I should have known better! You're nothing but a... a psychopath with delusions of grandeur!'

Lecter looked like he'd been slapped. Barney took a hesitant step forward, wondering if he should get between the two men; cut off their line of sight to each other. He'd witnessed, and been involved in, countless arguments between Lecter, Graham and whoever was visiting the two. He'd dragged hapless souls from between the killers, he'd pulled his own colleagues from their view. He'd never seen Lecter and Graham go at each other. Despite being locked up, despite being serial killers and cannibals, the two men had seemed to have the perfect relationship.

'You're not better than me, Hannibal!' Graham finally continued. 'In fact, you're  _ worse _ ! I fucking caught you and I tricked you and I chased you to Europe and caught you again! If I hadn't decided to love you back you'd be dead!'

They were staring at each other; Graham panting, flushed, hair wild and eyes the same. Lecter looked...  _ broken _ .

'Will...' the doctor tried.

'Don't,' Graham snarled. His fists dropped from the glass, and he mirrored Lecter's stance for a beat before turning away. 'You're pathetic.'

Barney saw Lecter flinch. 'Will.'

But Graham was done. He grabbed his sheets, his pillows, his blankets, and dragged them into the far corner. His mattress was closer to the glass and Graham ignored it. Instead he bunched everything into the corner, turned one last glare at Lecter, and then dropped onto his make-shift... nest. He curled into a ball, his back to the other two men, and went completely still.

Silence descended, and Barney gulped thickly. His skin felt prickly, his uniform too tight. He didn't... he... had  _ no idea  _ what to do. He knew how to behave when Lecter or Graham were ticked off at some nameless visitor, or even at another orderly or Dr Chen. But... when they were mad at each other? Usually one could calm the other down, make him smile and laugh.

Barney... was at a complete loss. He didn't even want to speak.

He hesitated before turning away from Graham to look at Lecter. The older man was staring at his husband, face pale and hands clenched tight against his side. Barney watched his throat work as he swallowed, watched his jaw twitch with how hard he was gritting his teeth. But Lecter said nothing, didn't even look at Barney, before turning away.

He went to sit at his desk, hesitated, and moved to his bunk. Barney watched him hesitate again before finally sitting. Barney had never seen the man so unsure of himself. Dr Lecter was the most put-together person Barney had ever met. He assumed it was a by-product of Lecter having to pretend to be human for most of his life.

Barney licked his lips before deciding to speak; 'Dr Lecter?'

Lecter ignored him. He heard Barney- his head tilted in Barney's direction- but the man laid down and turned to face the wall. Lecter never ignored people. He considered it rude.

Barney waited another minute, two, but when it became clear that Lecter  _ was  _ ignoring him, he turned and walked away. He'd originally come up to tell them that breakfast would be late; their newest cook hadn't unpacked any of the deliveries the night before, and as such it was taking longer to get all the meals cooked and trayed for the inmates.

Barney didn't think that Lecter and Graham would mind waiting for their meals... he hoped they wouldn't mind.

  
  


{oOo}

  
  


Barney brought Dr Lecter and Graham their breakfast. It was just after nine, two hours later than breakfast was usually served. Both men were where they'd been when he left earlier; Graham curled up in his nest in the corner, Lecter on his bunk.

'Uh...' Usually there was a routine, and usually Barney knew what to do. The couple's argument had thrown him off. 'Dr Lecter?' He paused. 'Mr Graham?' Both men ignored him. Lecter twitched, and Barney could see that he was awake. But Graham didn't move a muscle. 'I'll just... leave these here,' Barney decided. He slid their trays into their cells, looked at both men. When he didn't even get a “thank you”, he took the trolley and left.

The silence was... disconcerting.

  
  


{oOo}

  
  


Dr Chen was rarely surprised. His job consisted of discussing the inner workings of psychopaths' minds with said psychopaths. Sometimes the men and women he talked to were just... crazy, or depressed. He'd been a criminal psychologist, working with the FBI, before taking this job at the Baltimore State Hospital, so it had been a while since he'd dealt with smaller problems like affairs and unfortunate love interests in family members- there had been more of that than the public would assume.

Dr Chen was  _ surprised  _ when he stood between Dr Lecter and Mr Graham's cells to find complete and utter silence. That wasn't shocking- the men often delved into their own personal hobbies, silence taking over as Lecter sketched and Graham worked on his lures. But usually Dr Lecter greeted him, usually Graham offered a grunt or a smile when Lecter scolded him. Usually one of them was up and about, even if the other was napping.

Graham was in the corner on a nest made of his bedding. His personal effects were scattered all over his cell- books, lures, papers and letters and his spare clothing. His mattress was pressed up against the glass near the door, and his breakfast tray was where Barney had left it.

Lecter's cell was as neat as always, though his tray was abandoned, too. They hadn't been collected yet, and Dr Chen saw that neither man had touched their food.

'Dr Lecter?' he tried. Lecter was usually the easiest to get along with; even when he disappeared into his own head, his morals meant that common courtesy must be followed. He'd unfold from himself, blink, and at least offer a greeting before withdrawing once more.

Dr Lecter completely ignored him. He was lying on his bunk, flat on his back, arms by his side. Dr Chen tried again, and this time Lecter's fingers curled into fists. Still, he did not answer.

'I... we have an appointment,' Dr Chen tried. Part of their sentencing- part of every inmate's incarceration- was that they had to have weekly sessions with Dr Chen. They could choose another psychiatrist, but few did; most of them trapped here were beyond wanting a specific doctor. Most just wanted to brag or scream or spit.

Dr Lecter and Mr Graham were usually fine with discussing their minds with Dr Chen. They withheld things, certainly; sometimes they barely spoke or offered anything new. But they were always... polite.

Dr Lecter was still ignoring him.

'He's not gonna answer.'

Dr Chen jolted and turned. Graham had rolled over and fixed bright blue eyes on Dr Chen. He looked exhausted, but also angry. No...  _ furious _ , Dr Chen realised when Graham's eyes slid from him to rest on Lecter.

'And why is that?' Dr Chen asked, keeping his voice smooth, professional.

'He's an asshole,' Graham said bluntly. 'Can't quite get his person suit up today. All that's left is the actual human he is; a self-absorbed, snobby  _ prick _ .'

Dr Chen heard Lecter  _ snarl  _ and spun around. Lecter was on his feet, at the glass, glaring at his husband. Dr Chen flinched back, surprised by the sudden proximity and the fury in Lecter's eyes.

'You are being a child,' Lecter said.

' _ I'm  _ being a child?' Graham demanded. 'Who was it that stabbed someone because they didn't say “I love you” back?' He scoffed. 'But, of course, such a word is too  _ plebeian  _ for your magnificent feelings.'

'You know that what I feel for you can't be condensed into such a simple, mundane saying.'

'Saying  _ I love you  _ isn't mundane, Hannibal!' Graham snapped. He still hadn't sat up, and Dr Chen felt out of place, watching Graham argue while lying down. 'I get that you're  _ better  _ than the rest of us human pigs, but it wouldn't kill you to express yourself once in a goddamn while!'

'Everything I have done since we killed Francis I have done  _ for you _ ,' Lecter growled. 'What more do you want?'

Graham smirked. 'If you haven't figured it out, then you're not very good at your job  _ Doctor Lecter. _ ' With that he rolled over, turned his back to them once more. Lecter  _ snarled  _ and stormed back to his own bunk. Dr Chen blinked rapidly as Lecter  _ threw himself  _ onto the bunk, rolled over, and went still.

He...  _ what _ ?

'Uh...' Dr Chen wasn't sure what to do. He and Lecter had a session- Graham's was in two days- and they were mandatory. But... Dr Chen didn't feel like going into the cell. He didn't feel safe sending any orderlies in. Lecter's body was practically screaming  _ danger _ and only a fool would wander into his space while he was that... angry.

'I'll... come back later,' Dr Chen decided, 'and see if you're up for your session, Dr Lecter.' He could always just write down that Lecter was sick.

He slowly made his way out and glanced back every few steps, just to see if Dr Lecter or Mr Graham would stop him.

Neither moved.

  
  


{oOo}

  
  


'You're an asshole!' Graham shouted.

'Please, Will, I know that you're intelligent; you could at least  _ try  _ and use a different word when describing me.'

'Oh...  _ my God _ . You are the most infuriating, giant bag of  _ dicks _ -'

'An interesting choice, but better than previous attempts.'

'-I have  _ ever _ ... what did you just say to me?'

'Nothing.'

'No, that was something!'

Lecter chuckled.

'Don't give me that, you... you...'

'Asshole?'

'Oh, Dr Lecter's swearing! So he  _ is  _ human!'

'Will!'

Dr Chen left. He had tried to calm them; he had begged them to stop screaming. He had even threatened to have them sedated. Neither man paid him any attention. Dr Chen had no idea what they were arguing about, and seeing as how he could get neither man to open up, then... for now, he was done. Nobody could blame him for running, right?

  
  


{oOo}

  
  


Dr Lecter and Graham were fighting again. This time it was Colin caught in the fray. Barney and the other orderlies made a run for it when an alarm went off in the corner of their break room; it was the orange one, meaning an inmate was getting out of control and might need to be sedated. Two nurses met them on the run up, and Barney took one of the syringes. The nurses never entered the cells, not even in a medical emergency.

Colin was having a panic attack, and Barney briefly thought about suggesting that he resign before he turned his attention to Graham and Lecter.

Graham was throwing things again, and Lecter was close to shouting. Barney, August and Devon tried to calm the two- mostly Graham- but they were white noise to the furious couple. When Graham started punching the glass, when blood trickled down the sheet and stained Graham's sleeve, the orderlies acted.

Barney ordered Graham back from the glass, but Graham ignored them. August and Devon stood just behind Barney as he opened the cell, and they rushed in as soon as the door swung inward.

August got to Graham first, and it wasn't until his arm wrapped around Graham's neck that the killer seemed to realise what was happening.

'What- no-  _ let me go _ !'

'Will!'

They'd stopped arguing and Devon forced Graham to the floor while August kept his arm tight around his neck. Graham's face was turning red from lack of air, and he was wheezing out threats and a constant stream of, 'Let... go...  _ lemme go _ !'

Lecter was banging around inside his own cell, the two orderlies in the hallway ordering him silent. The nurses looked close to panic but held themselves together.

Barney got a knee into Graham's back and grabbed a fistful of hair. 'I'm sorry, Mr Graham, but you need to calm down before you hurt yourself.'

'Let me go, Barney!' Graham snarled. The monster was there, in his eyes; bright and dripping with blood, just wanting to take a chunk out of Barney's neck. But Barney dealt with crazy people for a living, and he let August uncap the syringe and remove his arm before Barney injected Graham in the neck.

Almost immediately Graham started thrashing. He tried to buck them off, snarled and snapped at Devon's arm. His teeth caught on the sleeve of Devon's uniform but Devon managed to yank himself free.

'Will! Will!' Dr Lecter was shouting- actually  _ shouting _ . Barney heard him growl in frustration but didn't remove his eyes, or his body, from Graham. He wouldn't until the man went absolutely still.

'You son... of a...  _ bitch _ ...' Graham's voice faded, his eyes drooped despite how hard he fought it. He went limp before his muscles did, trying to trick them, but Barney, August and Devon remained where they were. Finally Graham fell unconcious and August and Devon were able to pick him up and drop him onto his bunk. Devon had to replace his mattress, though they didn't bother with the pillows or sheets.

Barney breathed a sigh of relief and gestured for the nurses to entire. They had med kits with them and quickly went to work on cleaning Graham's hand. Barney watched for a minute before turning his attention to Lecter.

The man was staring at them- staring at the nurses touching his husband. His face was blank, his arms held loosely by his sides. When he felt Barney's attention, he looked at him.

'I did what I had to do, Dr Lecter,' Barney said. 'Your husband could have seriously injured himself.'

Lecter wet his lips. 'I... am aware of that,' he said, slowly. And he was; Barney knew that he was. Still, Lecter was probably picturing himself murdering each and every one of them; taking their organs, staging their bodies, coming up with recipes so that he could eat his human trophies later. Barney knew enough about Dr Lecter and Graham to picture that.

'For what it's worth...' Barney hesitated, but said it; 'I'm sorry.'

Lecter just nodded. He didn't move, or pull his eyes away from his husband, even when everybody left Graham in his cell alone and re-locked the door. Graham's abandoned lunch- the fifth meal he had refused since he and Lecter had started fighting- had been upended when the orderlies had forced their way in. Meatloaf, potatoes, and peas lay scattered across the white floor. Barney felt bad about the mess, but he would have to clean it up later. For now, it was probably best to leave Graham and Lecter as they were.

Barney offered another apology to Dr Lecter before following his colleagues from the floor.

'What the hell was that about?' August demanded as soon as they were out of ear-shot. At least, Barney hoped that they were.

'They're arguing,' Barney muttered.

'A lover's tiff?' Colin gasped. His breathing was still shallow, he was trembling, and Devon was helping him walk. But he looked better, at least; a little more colour in his cheeks.

'Something like that,' Barney grunted. 'Can't figure out what it's about. They're either ignoring each other or shouting insults when I'm in there.'

'I don't like it,' one of the nurse's- Lily, Barney thought- said. 'We usually don't have to deal with them except for their physicals.'

'I prefer it that way,' the other nurse said, his eyebrows drawn together. Lily and the other orderly, Alexander, both nodded in agreement, while Devon patted Colin's back when the smaller man began to cough.

Barney agreed, too. He really hoped that Lecter and Graham worked it out. Dealing with them would be impossible if they continued like this. Barney didn't want to start hating his job.

  
  


{oOo}

  
  


Barney was back, this time with breakfast. He wasn't sure if Lecter or Graham had eaten anything in the past week. As far as Barney knew, they hadn't, and if it continued both men would be chained and dragged down to medical to be fed intravenously. It happened quite often in the BSH.

Graham was sitting at the far end of his cell, against the wall, his mattress beneath him. Lecter was behind his table sketching. Barney felt hope curl in his chest, and sighed. He couldn't believe that he was so affected by two... two  _ crazy  _ people. It was crazy.  _ He  _ was crazy. Great.

'Breakfast,' Barney announced and slid Graham's tray in first, followed by Lecter's.

'Thank you,' Graham said, while Lecter remained silent. Graham cocked his head at that as Barney fixed the trolley. 'No “thank you”, Dr Lecter?' he demanded. 'Rude.'

Lecter sighed and put his pencil down. When he looked up, his face was... broken. Exhausted.  _ Done _ . 'I don't wish to fight any more, Will,' he said. 'Call me what you like; use whatever insults you prefer. I'm done.'

Graham frowned. 'Done?'

'I don't like fighting,' Lecter said, 'not with you. You're...  _ everything _ and-' He cut himself off and pursed his lips. 'Clearly that isn't enough.' He looked back down at his sketch, and Barney's attention slipped to Graham.

Graham was... gobsmacked, was the only word Barney could think of. And it was a word that Graham himself had taught him. 'I...  _ what _ ?' Graham demanded. 'Hannibal!'

Lecter didn't look up.

'How could you ever...' Graham took a breath, another, sighed. 'Hannibal.' His tone was soft, unlike anything it had been for the past week and a bit. He sounded like his old self, and Barney felt renewed hope flare in his chest. 'I'm angry at you,' Graham said, 'and sometimes you infuriate me to the point where I want to rip your tongue out of your throat and make you eat it.'

That got Lecter's attention, and he didn't look disgusted; Barney felt disgusted.

'I love you more than anything on this planet, Hannibal,' Graham said. 'I sailed across an ocean for you. I've killed for you and with you because I like it. I... what makes you think that I'd ever leave you, or that you would ever not be good enough for me?'

Lecter frowned. 'I hurt you,' he said.

Barney didn't know what, exactly, the doctor was referring to, but Graham did; of course he did.

'It's in the past,' he said, 'and that was an asshole move on my part; I shouldn't have brought it up. I've told you that I've forgiven you, and I have. It's... I'm sorry about that.'

Lecter just nodded.

Graham sighed and bumped his head against the cell wall. 'All you have to do is use your words, Hannibal. That's what this is all about. Just...  _ words _ . You're good at words- better than I am. Sometimes I feel like...'

He trailed off and, again, Barney was lost. Completely, utterly lost. He knew that he wasn't the smartest guy around, but he felt like even Dr Chen would be confused by this conversation.

'Will,' Lecter murmured, 'you know how I feel about you.'

'Do I?' Graham demanded immediately. 'Do I, Hannibal? Because all you ever do is speak in shadows and half-formed sentences. You hide behind your monsters and your blood and your clever fucking tongue.'

Lecter made a pained noise, but didn't interrupt.

'I  _ thought  _ I knew how you felt,' Graham muttered. 'But you never say it. You hint at it. And I'm sorry, Hannibal, but right now, in this place? It isn't freaking good enough.'

Barney saw Lecter reach out, as though trying to touch his spouse, only to remember that they were separated by two sheets of glass and a hallway.

'Is that what this is about?' Lecter asked as he dropped his hand. 'You wish to hear my devotion to you?'

Graham sighed and sat up straighter, saw the way his husband was fidgeting, unsure of himself. 'I can see it,' Graham said. His voice was soft. All the fight seemed to have left him. 'You know I can. I... I  _ know _ , Hannibal.' He hesitated before sitting up straight, crossed his legs and scratched at his hair. 'But sometimes us normal people like to hear it,' he continued. 'It's hard to remember that you care when you call me an idiot and sneer at me.'

'I did not-' Lecter snapped his mouth shut when Graham glared at him. 'I...' he frowned, wet his lips, tried again; 'You know that I sometimes have... difficulty,' he didn't appear pleased to voice his disadvantage, 'expressing certain things in a way that others will understand. I forget that sometimes even you can't know everything. I take for granted your ability to read me, to  _ see  _ me.

'But, Will,' Lecter sat back at his table, looking dejected. Barney saw Graham cock his head. 'I can't see you as clearly as you see me,' Lecter said. 'It is an unfortunate part of our relationship that  _ you  _ seem to forget. If something is bothering you and you refuse to tell me, then of course we're going to argue. You have to... tell me, when I've upset you.'

'Sometimes I want you to figure it out,' Graham muttered.

'Sometimes I do,' Lecter said. It sounded like a reminder, and Barney saw Graham smile. It was a shy thing, a gesture that lit up his face. He looked so young, so innocent, that Barney had to consciously remind himself that this man had butchered and eaten four people before being caught.

'I know,' Graham said. 'Most of the time you're good at playing human; very good at this marriage stuff.'

'I may play human,' Lecter agreed, 'but our marriage is not a game to me, Will.  _ You  _ are not a game to me, not any more. You are...  _ everything  _ to me.' Barney saw Graham flush, saw his eyes light up at the vocal knowledge of how his husband felt about him. 'Love doesn't even begin to encompass what I feel for you, Will Graham,' Lecter said. 'I adore you. I am obsessed with you. If you asked me to, I would kill you, eat your heart, and let it be my last meal. I would wrap myself around you and follow you into the abyss. I would burn this world to the ground just to watch the light reflect in your eyes.'

Barney grimaced at the imagery, but Graham seemed to find it... romantic?

'I'd only ask you to kill me if you were bored of me,' he said.

Lecter smiled. 'I could never tire of you, dear, sweet Will. You are my world.'

'Of fire and blood and monsters,' Graham added. He stood from his mattress and Lecter echoed his movements, the two meeting in their favoured corners, both leaning against the glass and walls.

'I have only sincerely apologised perhaps half a dozen times in my entire life,' Lecter murmured. 'But for making you question our marriage, and my feelings for you... for making you feel such emotional pain... I am truly sorry, Will.'

'I know,' Graham replied. He pressed a hand to the glass. 'I'm sorry for being an asshole. I should have... told you, I suppose, instead of blowing up. But if you  _ ever  _ suggest that you're better than me-'

'I never would,' Lecter interrupted; he sounded offended.

'You do,' Will said, 'you don't mean it, but you do it all the time. You make mistakes...' His lips curled up and he glanced at Lecter from beneath his eyelashes. 'Humans make mistakes, Hannibal.'

Lecter sighed. 'Will-'

'You're human, Hannibal,' Graham said and he was... teasing? Barney breathed a sigh of relief. Okay...  _ okay _ . He honestly didn't quite understand what the argument had been about, but apparently it was over, now. Graham was smiling and Lecter was trying not to, and they were looking at each other with their usual soft eyed reverence. They were no longer spitting and puffing themselves up like angry cats, and that... that was  _ good _ . Barney's week had been the worst since he'd started working here. And that included the time, in the beginning, when Lecter and Graham had been kept in separate cells on separate floors... nobody wanted to remember those days.

'I am going to take you apart slowly,' Lecter was growling, now, and that was Barney's cue to leave.

When there was a lull in the conversation- when Graham was flushed and tugging at his crotch, when Lecter was smirking and eyeing his husband like a starving man- Barney cleared his throat. Graham jumped and Lecter's head swivelled to him.

'Barney,' Lecter said, 'I apologise. I forgot you were there.'

'That's alright, Dr Lecter,' Barney said. And he meant it; he didn't care when they forgot him. It just meant that he could get on with his jobs and not get dragged into any of their philosophical debates. He was out of his depth during those discussions. 'Dinner will be a bit late this evening. We weren't sure...' he trailed off, and Graham finished for him;

'Not sure if we were still arguing or not.'

'I find it rather fascinating that this institute grinds to a halt in some ways due to our moods,' Lecter mused.

Graham smirked. 'You love it.'

'I certainly am amused by it,' his husband responded.

Barney smiled and left the floor, went downstairs and headed for the cafeteria. He knew that the cooks would cry tears of relief when they heard that Lecter and Graham had made up; everybody would. Nobody liked it when one of the men was in a mood, because it affected the other, and that in turn affected everybody. When they were mad at each other?

Barney shook his head and breathed a sigh. He was glad that this had only happened once in the three years since Lecter and Graham had been incarcerated. If it happened again, Barney might just quit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:** I was reading Hannigram fanfic and this hit me. I just liked the idea of everybody being confused and out of their depths having to deal with a fighting Hannibal and Will. Now I really want to write the part where Hannibal and Will are kept in separate cells; that should be fun. And, of course, Jack has to make an appearance at some point. I actually have plans for that one-shot.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Dreamer


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Summary:** A little titbit from Will and Hannibal's joint murder trial. 
> 
> **Warnings:** Some mild descriptions of graphic murder
> 
> **Author's Note:** I don't know what this is! I have a terrible cold so I've been binge-watching Hannibal and... and... well, have it!
> 
> Dreamer

'Why did you do it?'

Will snapped out of his daze. He hadn't been in his river; not even within his and Hannibal's shared mind palace. He no longer lost time, he'd simply zoned out because he was so bored.

He and Hannibal were guilty. Will had helped a convicted murderer escape an insane asylum, helped said murderer kill another human being (and no, it wasn't self-defence), and had then gone on the run with that very same murderer. Had killed again with him. A couple of times.

They'd been caught red handed, after all. It wasn't like the FBI didn't have enough to send both he and Hannibal away.

Will blinked slowly and glanced up at the prosecutor from beneath his far too long curls. He'd wanted to cut them a while ago, soon after his injuries had healed. But Hannibal had insisted that they'd help mask just who he was. And Will had claimed that shaving his head would be sure to throw any casual news-watcher off. They'd argued on and off for three days before Hannibal had tossed Will onto their hotel bed...

And Will was only just remembering the argument, and his own desires, right now. On the witness stand of his second murder trial.

He glared at Hannibal. 'You bastard,' he muttered.

Hannibal simply raised his brow, looking completely unruffled. Because of course he was. It wasn't like this was _his_ first murder trial, either.

The lawyer- Danton? Dalton?- narrowed her eyes. 'Excuse me?'

Will shook his head and looked back at her. 'Sorry,' he muttered. He added a shy smile and fidgeted in his seat. 'I didn't hear you.'

He glanced at the court room from beneath his bangs. More than a few people had eased at his body language; Will was by now a master at faking his way through being fragile and trustworthy.

And then the lawyer had to go and ruin his fun.

'If you didn't hear me the first time, Mr Graham, then allow me to repeat the question.' The woman scowled and Will tilted his head to the other side. ' _Why did you do it_?'

Will blinked. 'Do what?'

He  _heard_ Hannibal snort and spotted their lawyer gently elbowing the cannibal in the ribs. Will had to hand it to the guy; he was tough.

Or maybe he just had a death wish.

Dalton-  _Den_ ton?- clenched her fingers together before releasing them slowly. 'Why did you help a convicted killer escape custody and then go on a murder spree with him?' she demanded. 'We know that you're guilty, Mr Graham; that isn't what this court is trying to decide. We're trying to decide if, like Hannibal Lecter, you can't be held completely responsible for your actions because you're certifiably insane.'

'Oh.' Will blinked again. ' _Oh_ .' Yes, that's right. They were here to determine his mentality. If Will had a dollar for every time  _that_ question had been brought up...

He cleared his throat and smiled widely at the lawyer. 'I'm sorry; what was your name again?'

She pursed her lips but Will watched her visibly get a hold of herself. 'Rebecca Dayton.'

' _Dayton_ ,' Will sighed in relief. 'Thank you.' He heard Hannibal tsk; saw the older man tilt his head just slightly.

'Miss Dayton- I know that much- Miss Dayton, I think it should be very clear that I am one-hundred percent, bona fide  _insane_ .'

There was a pause. Dayton stared at him. The Judge and everyone else in the room did, too. Hannibal picked at his nails.

'And why is that, Mr Graham?' Dayton finally demanded. 'You haven't cooperated with any of the doctors who have tried to interview you.'

'I don't like it when people try to psychoanalyse me,' Will answered easily.

'And your refusal to  _be_ psychoanalysed means that we're unsure of your sanity, Mr Graham,' Dayton shot back. 'Do you understand the severity of your situation? If you're found sane you  _will_ be sentenced to  _death_ .'

'I already died,' Will said. She stopped at that, mouth partially hanging open. 'After we killed the Dragon- Francis Dolarhyde- I grabbed Hannibal and tossed us both off of that cliff.' He shrugged lightly. 'Yet here we are. I already tried to execute myself _and_ Hannibal, Miss Dayton. Because I knew that there was no going back.'

Dayton pulled herself together quickly. 'No going back from what, exactly, Mr Graham?'

'From the path I'd chosen,' Will told her. His eyes drifted past the lawyer to rest on Hannibal. He had the man's full attention now, bloody eyes fixated on Will's face, gaze burning into his soul.

Did Will have a soul any more? Maybe. Maybe it was black. Maybe the Angel Maker really would have turned Will into an angel, if given the chance.

Maybe nobody had a soul.

'As soon as I decided to see Hannibal Lecter again, I knew that it could only end two ways; with his death, or with mine,' Will said. He picked at the cuff of his pricey suit jacket; something that Hannibal's lawyer had provided him with. 'I fully planned to watch the Dragon kill Hannibal. But...'

'But?' Dayton prompted.

'I... I _couldn't_.' Will swallowed thickly and wished he had his glasses. They hadn't let him have them this time; something about him being a danger to himself and others. Which, _point_.

'I couldn't,' Will repeated when he'd found his voice. 'After all we've been through- after everything Hannibal's done to me- I decided that the only person who could kill him was  _me_ . Only  _I_ have the right to kill Hannibal Lecter.' He turned a scowl on her and let the Chesapeake Ripper, the Minnesota Shrike, let his  _true self_ bleed into his eyes. She took a hasty step back. 'If you decide to kill Hannibal Lecter instead of sending him back to the Baltimore State Hospital, I  _swear_ to you, Miss Dayton, that I will be  _very_ upset.'

The court room was silent. Dayton, the Judge, Will's own lawyers; all were staring at Will with slightly bewildered eyes.

Will knew that it was a combination of his seemingly lackluster words clustered with the murder he let loose. But Will didn't want there to be any doubt; he would absolutely kill  _ anyone  _ who even  _ dared  _ to try and take Hannibal away from him. That would be Will's pleasure and his alone.

Eventually. After a couple of decades. Or maybe if Hannibal ever tried to keep Will from cutting his hair again-

'Mr Graham,' Dayton tried, but Will sighed and tossed himself back in his seat. His cuffs rattled against the wooden bar before him.

' _ Miss Dayton _ ,' he drawled, and that was definitely Hannibal freaking Lecter creeping into his voice. 'I'm bored. You're boring me. I ran away with Hannibal because he's  _ mine _ . Because I was sick of fighting the fact that I want to kill people and that I very much enjoy it. Does that make me insane? Based on your logic, certainly.

'But Hannibal likes it,' Will said. 'Hannibal isn't scared of what I think and what I want to do. We were both scared, I think, in the beginning; he was so used to hiding that he tried to get rid of me when he knew that I was getting close to figuring out the truth. And I decided to follow him across a goddamn ocean because I needed one last goodbye.

'But of course he came back.' Will looked past her, at Hannibal, who's eyes were still fixed on Will. 'You said you'd never leave.'

'And I don't plan to,' Hannibal purred.

Barnett, one of the lawyer's Hannibal had paid an enormous amount of money to to defend them, grabbed Hannibal by the arm and hissed in his ear. Hannibal just smiled pleasantly.

Will let his eyes drift from Hannibal to Dayton. He slumped back again, body lax, eyes burning red. 'I killed the Dragon because he hurt Hannibal; not because he killed those families, but because he  _ dared  _ to try and take Hannibal away from me.

'And after that I killed another person because he called Hannibal and I a rather unsavoury name. The second woman shouted at me in public when she thought I was flirting with her. The third we tied up and dragged down a dirt road because she said  _ we  _ were dirt-'

'Mr Graham,' Dayton cut in, 'we know the details of your crimes.'

'And I did them because I  _ wanted to _ ,' Will growled at her. 'They were rude. They didn't deserve to live. They didn't deserve to die, either, but death is better than letting them poison the world with their deplorable attitudes.'

Oh, he was  _ definitely  _ channelling Hannibal now.

'I killed them because I wanted to,' Will stated, once again. 'I slit the first man's throat just so I could feel the blood splatter across my face. I sunk my entire fist into the first woman's chest so that I could rip out her heart and take a bite while she was still warm. I let Hannibal cook and plate the second woman because he's a really good cook and I was sick of-'

'Mr Graham!' Dayton snapped at him.

Will gave her a lop-sided smile. 'Just ask Agent Crawford; Hannibal's dinners are  _ to die for _ .'

Hannibal actually rolled his eyes but Will ignored him.

'I don't know if I'm insane, Miss Dayton,' Will continued. 'An insane person would probably insist that they  _ are  _ sane. I know that Hannibal tried. I'm not sane; I won't pretend that I am. But I'm not insane, either. I'm just... me.' He paused, licked his lips. 'And I like eating people.'

Will's lawyer finally jumped to his feet and shouted that this was dragging; Will clearly wasn't going to say any more than he already had; Dayton was wasting hers, and everyone else's, time.

Will sat patiently and let his mind wander once more, eyes drifting around the room until they settled on his husband.

Hannibal had that stupid besotted look in his eyes again. Will still wasn't completely used to it. They'd been caught too soon, too many injuries and too many stops drawing the noose around their necks.

Will didn't mind, though. He doubted that Hannibal would be sentenced to anything other than life imprisonment within the same asylum he'd been broken out of. Will... Will would make sure that he went with him.

Because like he'd told Dayton; Hannibal was  _his_ .

And nobody, not even  _God_ , was going to take Hannibal away from him.

 


End file.
